


A Soul at Work

by Abstract_Thoughts



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Amputation, I have emotions abt Shiro's time in as a prisoner, Shiro is an emotionally broken man, Unconsentual amputation, galra - Freeform, give him hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 15:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7808020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abstract_Thoughts/pseuds/Abstract_Thoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is to be their greatest weapon, whether he wanted it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Soul at Work

> "There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand." -Mary Shelley,  _Frankenstein_
> 
> * * *

 

Shiro only knew that he'd won. He was alive, sadly. His soul burned, a fire lit from the inside, slowly burning away the humanity left within him. But what in the name of some absent god did that... _Thing_ want with him?

It's hood covered it's face, only sharp teeth and blue skin visible. It circled the Champion, who was being "inspected". He'd been dragged here kicking, screaming and biting; the burns from the sentry's shock baton wouldn't heal for a few days, at the least. 

"Interesting..." it mused, looking between the scans of Shiro's body and the physical thing, "Such a small species like yourself to be so..." it's lips stretched into a grin, " _Durable_."

Shiro didn't like it's expression  (or, that of the expression he could see). It was everything from his childhood nightmares about the Joker- like something had taken a knife to it's lips and sliced.

* * *

 

"I think this will be the perfect specimen, Lord Zarkon," Haggar said, fingers itching to get her fingers on the thing.

"As do I," the Emperor responded, "Do not fail me,"

* * *

Shiro did not like it. The "Druids" danced around him as though it was a practiced dance, chatting and discussing how "the procedure" would go. It caused fear to bubble up in a way he had not felt in months. It was not death he feared- it was living.

In swooped the hooded Druid, who barked orders to it's staff.  Shiro was shaking.

"What are you going to do?" he demanded, "What do you want!?"

The aliens did not respond- he only heard the oh-too-familiar sound of an automatic blade _bzzz-bzzz_ ing.

The blade entered his flesh just above his shoulder, and he shrieked. The aliens only put more pressure on keeping him still. It kept going into his flesh- muscle, tendons- and Shiro could feel warm blood on his shoulder and his neck. 

And then it hit bone. Shiro had broken several bones before, but having one's bone sawed through? It was agony. -Why were they doing this?- His screams brought him no assistance. -Matt wasn't here. Commander Holt wasn't here.- The blade was almost through. -Not safe. But safer...

And his arm was gone.

Tears of pain slipped down his face.

"Cauterizing the wound," said one of the aliens, and pain flared from the place where his joint had been, like fire had been placed on it.

"Cleaning bodily fluid,"

Tears continued to come. Why was this happening?

"Attaching the Prototype,"

Shiro felt something cold and metallic against the naked wound, and he couldn't bear to look.

"Nanobots active,"

Shiro begged for them to kill him.

"Nerons receptive,"

They didn't kill him.

"Prototype properly attached. Reactive to nerotic stimuli,"

Shiro pulled against the restraints, and sobbed once more as he realized that both arms responded. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> OK so I just had the thought at like midnight last night that Shiro was chosen to be a weapon. And like  
> Yeah that prosthetic didn't come out of necessity probably


End file.
